Kiss My Eyes
by TJ Sparkles
Summary: ...and lay me to sleep. Edge oneshot. WARNING: Tragedy, if that bothers you then don't read.


**A/N: You'll all probably hate me after reading this. But I had to do it when the idea came to me. I was in the mood for something sad, and this came along. **

**Enjoy!**

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"I'm sorry, Mr. Copeland."

Edge's head snapped up. The other man's voice was quiet, soft even, yet it chilled the Canadian to the bone. He was almost afraid to question the doctor, because he had a sinking suspicion that what he was about to say would undoubtedly be bad news.

"Is it…." His voice trailed off as he stared down at his hands.

The doctor took a deep breath as he shifted through a stack of papers. He stepped forward and kindly laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"It's ALS," he stated. "Lou Gehrig's Disease. Have you heard of it?"

Edge was stunned. His mouth was drier than the Sahara desert, and his throat felt scratchy. For the past few weeks, he'd been feeling rundown and weak. Now, normally he would chalk it up to the fact that he was getting older and couldn't handle the exertion of wrestling like he used to, but after being subjected to test after test, he knew that it was much more than that. All he could think as he sat on the table in the small white room was, _At least it's not cancer. _He knew that it sounded lame, but with ALS, at least he didn't have to worry about chemo or radiation and putting his family through that, namely his Ma.

"Y..yeah, I know what it is," he replied. "How..how did I get it?" He ran a hand through his long locks.

A sympathetic look was sent his way as the doctor explained,

"Well, that's why we brought you in. The symptoms you described—muscle weakness, especially in the limbs, the fact that you've been experiencing slurred speech, and having trouble swallowing, are all symptoms of ALS, but they can also be attributed to other diseases. It was important that we put you through every test necessary to rule those out before we made our diagnosis. Unfortunately, there aren't any tests that can pinpoint ALS. If there were, it would have been a lot easier for both of us to diagnose it."

A long, uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them, as the Canadian tried to envision what this meant for his life. He wasn't in his 20's, but he still felt that he was in the prime of his life, and his wrestling career had been on the up and up for some time now. Learning that it could all come crashing down around him in a matter of months scared the hell out of him, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He was scared and what was worse, this was terminal. There would be no getting over it.

Finally, the older man broke the silence, asking,

"Do you have any other questions?"

"How long?" Edge's voice was shaky, and he knew that he was on the verge of crying. But he couldn't. Not here, anyway.

The doctor let out a sigh.

"It's hard to say, Mr. Copeland."

"Adam," the man corrected. "How long do I have, Doc?"

"Well, it depends," the doctor answered. "The majority of people affected by it usually die within the first couple of years, but research has also shown that some patients can live up to ten years, maybe longer. I can't give you a definitive answer." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Adam. Just try not to think about it, all right?" Before the younger man could speak, the doctor left the room, casting one more reassuring look before he did so.

Once he was sure that the doctor was gone, the former World Heavyweight Champion buried his head in his hands and let out over a month's worth of frustration.

_What am I going to do?_

The only thing he wanted at the moment was sleep. His body was sore from being poked and prodded, and he hadn't eaten in days. _A shower is probably in order as well, _he thought as he inconspicuously sniffed his t-shirt.

As he walked out of the hospital, pangs of fear ran through his body. He knew that, sooner or later, he was going to get very sick, and there would be no way that he'd be able to take care of himself. Would he be put in a nursing home? Edge knew that his mother would offer to take care of him, but she was getting older and wasn't in the best of health either, and he didn't to be a burden to her, or to _anyone. _Maybe a nursing home would be the best option.

He didn't think about it anymore once he got home. The dogs were waiting at the door for him, and he smiled as he reached down to play with them. It was moments like this that made him happy, even when he didn't feel like it, and cleared his mind. He was so tired when he made his way to the bedroom that he didn't even bother taking his shoes off. He just simply collapsed on the bed; his eyes closing before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

It was 7:30 when he woke up the next morning. He automatically remembered that there was a taping today, and he groaned inwardly. Not something he was looking forward to, because he knew that a lot of the guys—Jay and Chris mostly—would bring up his visit with the doctor and it wasn't something he really wanted to discuss.

Even though he'd tried to follow the doctor's advice and push the diagnosis out of his mind, he hadn't been able to. He knew that the minute he showed up, questions would be hurled his way and he would have to tell the whole truth, without beating around the bush.

He wasn't sure who to break the news to first: his co-workers and friends, or his mother. In the end, Adam decided that it would be much easier for him to let his friends know first. He wasn't sure what he would say to his mom, and quite frankly, it wasn't something he wanted to think about at the present time. Jay was his best friend, and probably the safest choice, but what would he say? How do you tell someone you've known practically all your life that your time is running short?

Once he arrived at the arena, he carefully stepped through the large double doors, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his arm. A few people were scattered about, but none of them were faces that he recognized.

A few paces later, and he was at catering. Instantly, he felt his stomach go into knots. He knew that it was a pretty safe bet that a good portion of the roster would be in there, eating and chattering. He entered the room cautiously, and a wave of relief shot through him as he noticed that there was only about six people in the room: Nattie and Katie Lea, who were in the corner whispering and giggling, Gregory Helms, who was chatting up the blonde ECW General Manager, Tiffany, was sitting at a table next to the vending machine.

And then Edge's heart dropped down into his stomach as he noticed two very familiar faces. He hadn't noticed them at first because he hadn't been paying attention, but the moment his gaze fixed on them, he felt his muscles twitch and his mouth go dry and his hands shake. This was e_xactly _what he'd been dreading. The two people in question were, of course, the guys he was closest to—Jay, a.k.a. Christian, and Jericho.

With a sigh, he cleared his throat to speak. It probably wasn't the right time or place to break the news, but he figured that if he didn't do it now, he never would.

"Uh, I hate to bother you guys, but if I can get your attention for just a minute, I have something to say." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shuffled a bit.

Everyone turned to meet his gaze, a few of them confused, yet curious as to what the Canadian had to say.

"I think most of you know that I haven't been feeling like myself lately, and that I went in to get tests to see what was going on. Well, um, I just got back from the doctor, and"—his voice caught in his throat at that exact moment—"I got the news. It's not so good." He paused for a second to let the statement register, and continued, "It's ALS."

Everyone was silent. Katie Lea, who was standing next to Gregory Helms, put a hand over her mouth in shock. Christian was a particularly sickening shade of green, and Jericho's mouth was hanging open in surprise. No one said anything. They simply stood there, staring at him. The tension was unbearable—it was almost as if each person was waiting for another to say something.

"Quit fucking staring at me," Edge hissed, breaking the silence. Instantly, he felt bad, and apologized.

"I'm sorry..it's been kind of a rough morning."

Jericho was the first of the Superstars to speak.

"Is it—"he began, before Edge cut him off.

"Yeah, it's terminal," he replied. "The doc says it could be a couple of years at the most."

Almost instantly, Nattie Neidhart moved from her spot across the room. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she stepped forward and hugged the taller man tightly.

"This can't be happening," she choked out. "I'm not going to lose you."

Adam chuckled softly as he returned the hug. He stepped away and gently chucked the woman's chin, saying,

"Chin up, love. Remember what I told you. There's no such thing as goodbye—we'll be seeing each other again."

Nattie and Edge had been close ever since she got the job as a Diva with the company. They were definitely closer than friends, but you couldn't really consider them a couple. Sometimes, Edge would take Nattie out to eat, and sometimes she'd come over to his place and cook him dinner. Relationships hadn't been kind to him the past couple of years, and so that was why he hadn't formally asked Nattie out. But that wasn't what mattered right now. He didn't want Nattie, or anyone, for that matter, to feel sorry for him.

The blonde wiped away a tear as she stepped away from Edge, her beautiful eyes still brimming with more tears.

Christian was still standing there, staring at the man that he considered to be his brother, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate a proper sentence. Finally, after a few minutes, he was able to speak.

"Isn't there anything they can do?" his voice was shaky.

Edge's head snapped up, but he didn't meet Christian's gaze. He didn't want to see him crying.

"I'm afraid not," he responded. "Not much, anyway. They can give me drugs and I have to go in for tests regularly, but there's no cure for ALS at the moment. And I don't even know how long I've had it, so….." his voice trailed off.

"Have you spoken to your mom yet?" Chris questioned softly.

"No," his friend answered. "I don't know what I'll tell her…this is going to kill her. You know how fragile she is already…..maybe it would be best if I didn't tell her."

"Do you want me to?" Christian offered. "It might be easier if she hears it from me."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Jay," Edge said, with a small smile. "Means a lot, man."

"No problem….anything else I can do?"

"I don't want anyone taking pity on me," Edge ordered. "I'm gonna get a lot sicker, and my body's going to deteriorate, but don't you feel sorry for me. Things like this just happen, and I gotta deal with it the best possible way."

"Do you want me and Jay to move in with you?" Chris stepped closer and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I mean, you're probably going to need someone to help take care of you."

"No," Edge said sharply. "Thanks for the offer, guys, but like I said, I don't want you to see me like that anymore than you have to. I'll get a nurse."

"We'll set it up for you," Christian piped up. "We'll make sure you get the best care possible."

"What about wrestling?" another voice questioned, and Edge turned his head to see Helms looking at him. "You think maybe you should retire before it gets too hard?"

"I don't know, man," the blonde looked down at the floor. "The doctor says that I can do it, so until it becomes a problem, I guess I'll continue."

"Let us know if you need anything," The North Carolinian stated. "You've got my number."

"I will."

An uncomfortable, awkward silence filled the room before Edge finally broke it by saying,

"Well, I guess I better go and tell Vince now…sorry to drop all this on you guys so suddenly."

"Don't be sorry," Nattie whispered. "It isn't your fault."

He gave a soft sigh as he left catering, not caring to look back as he left. He knew that, by the end of the day, everyone would know about his condition, but he honestly didn't care. He just hoped he didn't get flowers and candy and cards and all that junk. It would only upset him more, because he knew that it was a sign of everyone delaying the inevitable.

The one question that no one had asked him yet was if he was scared of dying, and he was. Not because he thought it would hurt, but because of the effect it would have on his loved ones.

Besides that, he had so much left to accomplish.

* * *

_One year later….._

No one expected that Edge would be taken from them so soon. Sure, everyone knew that it would come sooner or later, but they'd been hoping that it would be later rather than sooner. Everyone noticed Edge getting sicker and sicker with each week, but they still held on to the little bit of hope that maybe he'd make it for just a little longer.

It happened on the twelfth of November, just after Jericho's birthday. Christian and Jericho tried to joke about it, saying that Edge wanted to depart so that he didn't have to partake in the debauchery that Christian engaged in every year, but they were only kidding themselves. Christian was glad he hadn't been at Edge's house when it happened. The hospice nurse had called him, and he knew instantly from her tone of voice what had happened. He'd phoned Jericho, and the two of them immediately began making the funeral and burial arrangements.

Upon hearing the news of her son's death, Judy had had a nervous breakdown, forcing Christian and Jericho to take her to the hospital. As per his best friend's will, Christian had bought a house just down the street from Mrs. Copeland, and offered his help anytime she needed it. He wanted her to move in with him, but being fiercely independent, she'd said no.

Christian arranged for the burial to be on a Saturday. It was a warm day, surprisingly warm for fall, anyway, and of course everyone in the company showed up. He remembered seeing Vince cry that day, and being blown away because the man _never _cried. Each of the McMahons had given a stirring speech about how much Edge would be missed, how great of a guy he was, and how important he'd been to the company. Lilian sang a thrilling version of "Amazing Grace", and that was when Christian had to hold back the tears. Even Jericho was crying at that time, but Christian bit his lip and instead tried to think good thoughts about his friend.

Many of the Superstars had left as soon as the service was over, but a few remained for a couple extra minutes, talking and trying not to cry as they remembered their fallen friend. Surprisingly, Christian hadn't cried yet. He wasn't sure if it was due to shock—maybe the situation hadn't quite hit him yet—or because a long time ago he and Edge had promised to each other that one wouldn't cry at the other's funeral.

One by one, people slowly began to filter out, hugging each other as they all got into their cars. Christian was riding back with Jericho to Edge's place, to pick up the last of his things, and Helms was riding along. A few other Superstars stayed for a couple extra minutes, but they eventually began to filter out too.

Nattie was the last to leave. She waited until everyone else was out of sight before kneeling down and placing a single rose on the headstone. Tears were falling from her eyes freely, and she didn't bother wiping them away. Softly, she raised a finger to her lips, kissed it, and then placed her finger on the smooth headstone.

She cast one last glance at the headstone as she walked away, remembering Edge's words to her the day he notified her of his condition.

"_Chin up, love. Remember what I told you. There's no such thing as goodbye—we'll be seeing each other again."_

A slight smile came over her face, and she pulled her jacket closer as she made her way out of the cemetery. It was a beautiful day—she just wished that Edge was here to enjoy it.

_I promise you my heart, just promise to sing,  
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

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**See what I mean now? Hopefully you still liked this =)**


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